Skyrim: Hidden Fates
by NikittyKat
Summary: An assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, a warrior of the Circle of the Companions, and a thief of the Guild. Throw them all together, and it could be a recipe for greatness... or disaster. What fate do the three of them have in store for Skyrim?
1. Chapter 1

**Ralyn**

_Guards these days, _Ralyn thought as he snuck easily through the camp, away from the flickering firelight, _are terrible. There may as well not be any, for all the good they do._

He glanced briefly at the nearest watch as these thoughts went through his head, disgusted. He was pretty sure that the hulking brute of a man was asleep, slumping unmoving against the trunk of a tree with two and a half empty bottles of ale scattered on the ground beside him. _A dragon could come out of the sky and burn their camp to the ground right now, and they'd never know what hit them._

He skirted one last tent before reaching the one he was looking for. Unlike the others, it was lit from the inside, and the shadow of a man could be seen moving around through the wall of white cloth. His target was still awake. _Great._

There was a tree growing only a couple of feet away from the tent, with a thick trunk and sturdy limbs that twisted up into the night sky. Ralyn climbed this, moving easily up the length of it until he came to a stop on one of the wider branches, where he sat, waiting. It wasn't long before the light went out and that corner of the camp was plunged into darkness, but he waited longer still. The average person didn't fall asleep immediately, after all.

He sat there, unmoving, for half an hour or so before silently dropping to the ground, landing in a crouch. The camp had grown dimmer, what with the extinguishing of the lamps and the gradual death of the fire. It was little more than hot embers by that point.

The dark elf glanced around, checking for any coherent guards before darting around the outside of the tent and in through the flap. He was greeted by the sound of gentle snoring, coming from the makeshift bed in the corner. A figure lay on top of the blankets, in full armor, with the hilt of a sword sticking out from under the pillow. Ralyn always found it amusing when his targets wore their armor or kept weapons within reach while they slept. Sure, it was probably a smart thing to do in the event of a surprise attack in the middle of the night by stormcloaks, but it sure wouldn't save him if... say... an assassin were to come.

Ralyn chuckled to himself as he crept closer, reaching the bedside and standing up straight so that he was looking down at the sleeping, oblivious face of the legate. He made a face at the man, which probably would have been enough to spark a laugh had anyone actually seen it.

_How should I go about this?_ he thought, ceasing his silent mockery to study the target. What was his name again? _Oh well, it doesn't really matter. _Maybe he should kill the man with his own sword. Yes, that had a kind of hilarious irony to it.

He pulled the sword out from under the pillow slowly so as not to wake its owner, sliding it from its sheath. It wasn't anything special, just a plain, sturdy steel blade that most imperial soldiers carried. It would do. He plunged the sword into the sleeping man's throat, the blade slicing all the way through his neck and into the straw mattress.

He left it there, carelessly tossing the sheath on the carcass and exiting the tent. He walked right past the intoxicated guard and out into the night, no longer caring whether or not he was caught. He'd carried out the job, and so if they happened to see him, he could slip away easily. They didn't end up spotting him, of course. Guards were useless, after all.

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~`-_*-...

**Cana **

"That's one down," Vilkas huffed, grinning as he hefted his skyforge steel greatsword. It was stained with splatters of dark blood, a bit of which dripped onto the dead, dry grass below. "Only three more to go."

Cana smiled. They stood in the middle of a disproportionately large campsite, beside a bonfire that was stacked higher than some houses. The fresh corpse of a giant lay on its stomach in the dirt behind the two, black blood spilling out onto the ground from dozens of sword wounds, the deepest of which went directly through its heart. The other three giants, who were farther away from the camp and hadn't noticed the fight until now, were just beginning to realize what was going on. They were slow, these creatures, mentally as well as physically. Cana slid her sword back into its sheath, pulling out her longbow instead. They were still far enough away to get a few shots in, maybe weaken them before the real fight started. _This'll be fun._

"Think I can kill another before they even get here?" she asked Vilkas without looking at him. She drew back the bowstring, not taking too much time to aim before releasing an arrow. It hit one of the giants solidly in the chest, causing it to stumble back a bit. They were still too far away to really tell how deep it'd gone.

Vilkas laughed, shaking his head. "Not sure," he said as she loosed another arrow. This one hit the beast in the shoulder, and it roared in pain, quickening its advance. "I doubt that a couple of puny arrows will do much more than anger a giant, but you're welcome to try."

Cana's smile only grew wider. She notched another arrow, this time taking more time to aim carefully before releasing it. It whizzed through the air, embedding itself in the giant's eye. The creature fell to its knees, clutching its bleeding eye. The next arrow buried itself fletching-deep into its skull, and it toppled over, dead.

"You'd be surprised, Vilkas," the blonde nord woman snorted, strapping the bow into place on her back before pulling out her sword again. It was an enormous claymore, with a bright, runed steel blade that glowed faintly blue. "A few well-placed arrows can do some pretty crazy things."

She turned and charged at the two remaining giants before he could reply, ducking under a swinging club. She dove between its legs before it could try to hit her again, slashing at the backs of its knees. Sparks of electricity raced up its legs, and the giant fell to the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust and causing the earth to tremble slightly. Vilkas, who had caught up by this point, swung his blade in a downward arc to chop off its head before it could get back up.

Cana whirled around to face the last giant, holding her enchanted claymore in one hand. She cranked back her sword arm, throwing the blade at the advancing beast. It spun in the air, sinking into the creature's skull and frying its brain with lightning before it even knew what she was doing. The angle at which the sword stuck out of the giant's head was a bit odd, but it did the job. The monster fell, crashing into a nearby sack of mammoth cheese.

"That's unfortunate," Canna sighed, walking over to where the giant had fallen to retrieve her blade. "I love mammoth cheese. Why'd he have to die on top of it?"

Vilkas sheathed his own sword, looking around the campsite at their handiwork. "Never cared much for the stuff," he said, turning back to his sheild-sister. "You fought well today. Even better than usual, in fact."

"Thanks. You weren't bad yourself, you know," Cana replied, grimacing when she saw how filthy her sword had gotten. She'd have to clean it when they got back to Jorrvaskr. "Well, it looks like we're done here."

"Back to Whiterun, then? A bit of mead sounds pretty good right about now."

Cana nodded. "Let's go."

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~`-_*-...

**Dar'kasa**

The first thing that caught her eye when she entered the bunkhouse and wandered around the corner was the statue. It was solid gold and a decent size, shaped into the likeness of Dibella. Dar'kasa hated Dibella, but she loved gold. She also had a few acquaintances that loved gold even more than she did, and would pay a good amount to get their hands on a thing such as this.

"What do _you _want?"

The voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Haelga, who was standing on the other side of the counter facing the door. She looked quite annoyed by the fact that Dar'kasa was in her inn, with her arms folded and a stormy expression on her slightly pink face. Dar'kasa hated Haelga even more than the divine she served, and that was a hard thing to do.

"I think you know why I'm here," the khajiit replied, sauntering up to the counter with her hands in the pockets of her black leather armor. "You owe us money, Haelga. If you don't want bad things to start happening around here, I suggest you pay up."

"I'm not afraid of you," Haelga snarled, leaning forward across the smooth wooden surface of the counter so that her face was mere inches from Dar'kasa's. "I know that things haven't been going well for your guild lately. I doubt you can really do anything about it if I decide not to pay."

Dar'kasa chuckled, staring down the nord woman with slitted yellow eyes. "Do you really want to test that theory?" she asked in a low voice, tapping her claws on the counter so that they made a rhythmic, taunting clicking noise.

Haelga looked as though she was about to speak, then she stopped, thinking. The click of claws on wood was the only sound in the room for a long moment. Too long a moment.

"Well?" Dar'kasa snapped, her tail flicking impatiently. "Are you going to give me the coin or not? I don't have time to just sit around and wait while you think about it."

Haelga stood in silence for another heartbeat before heaving a defeated sigh. Dar'kasa backed up, leaning against the wall around the corner of which sat the golden statue of Dibella as she waited for the nord to collect the money.

Haelga ducked behind the counter for a half a minute, and the khajiit thief took that as an opportunity to snatch the statue, shoving it soundlessly into the dark cloth pack she kept on her back. She quickly leaned back against the wall as she had been before, folding her arms casually as Haelga came back up from behind the counter, a small coin pouch in her hand.

"Just take it," she spat, angrily tossing the pouch onto the counter in front of Dar'kasa. It made a satisfying clinking sound as the khajiit walked over and picked it up, counting out the coins. "Take it and get out of my bunkhouse!"

"Wait a second," Dar'kasa said, holding out a hand. "You're one coin short."

Haelga growled, yanking a gold piece out of her pocket and throwing it at the thief, who caught it with a smirk and dropped it into the pouch with the rest of them.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," she said, giving Haelga a mock bow, "but I've got some more errands to run. Have a nice day." She didn't mean it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ralyn**

"You've already killed twenty people this week," Nazir said, shaking his head in amusement and disbelief. "Don't get me wrong, normally I'd be all for it. But at the rate you're going, there won't be anyone left _to _kill!"

"Twenty's an exaggeration. I've only killed seventeen." Ralyn retorted, propping his feet up on the long table in the heart of the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. He tilted his chair back, not quite enough to send it toppling over, but very close to that.

His friend cocked an eyebrow. "Oh yes, my mistake. Just seventeen." Ralyn chuckled, and Nazir continued. "My point is, are you sure you want to take on another contract so soon? Why not take a break for a day or two?"

The young dark elf snorted. "Who wants to take a break from something they love doing?" he asked, shrugging. "Constantly taking on contracts is like eternal vacation for me. Why would I want to stop the fun?"

"Well said," Nazir laughed, slapping his friend on the back. "Alright, fine. A contract just came in for some Thalmor official in Solitude named Sarulas. The client wants it staged to look like a suicide, for whatever reason." He shrugged. "Who are we to question them? Get to it, and have fun."

Ralyn stood, giving the redguard man a nod. "Trust me, I will." He left, walking up the stairs and out the stone arch that served as a doorway, into the main room of the sanctuary, if it could even be called that. It was more of a cave, really, with high, rocky walls and ceilings, and all manner of moss growing everywhere. A waterfall spilled in with a quiet thunder, emptying into a small pond to his left. To his right was a large, manmade stone wall, with a word etched into it in some strange language none of the members of the Brotherhood recognized, let alone understood. Ralyn didn't know what it was for, but he'd passed by it so many times that he'd long since memorized it.

"Going somewhere, Ralyn?" a child's voice asked from somewhere behind him. He turned to see a small girl standing at the base of the stairs he'd just come down, her tiny arms crossed. "Another contract, is it?"

"Yeah. Speaking of which, I've seen you hanging around here an awful lot lately, Babette. Why don't you take one?"

The blonde child sighed, rolling her eyes. "Because you keep taking all of them, idiot! Hardly anyone can find a job anymore, with you running around having all the fun. Honestly, you should be more considerate."

He chuckled at the outraged expression on the little vampire's face. He couldn't tell if she was actually mad or just pretending, but it was funny either way. Babette smiled, apparently joking with the attitude.

"I need to go," Ralyn said, eliciting a slight frown from the 'child'. "I have to travel all the way to Solitude to kill this guy, so I'd prefer to get started right away."

"Oh, fine," Babette muttered, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Nazir's much better than you at holding an intelligent conversation, anyway. Okay, scratch that. _Everyone _is better than you at being intelligent, period. Except for maybe Arnbjorn. I'd say you two are matched in your stupidity."

Ralyn laughed as she spun around, walking off without another word as though she were actually upset with him. He wasn't sure whether or not she'd really meant that insult, however. He wouldn't have been surprised in the least if she had. _You never really_ _know with Babette, _he thought, turning around himself.

He crossed the cave floor, went up the steps, down the hall and out the door without any more interruptions, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight. It was a chilly day, but that was hardly any surprise, considering where he was. He actually preferred the cold, however, so the frigid air didn't bother him in the least.

He pulled his hood up over his head of black hair, both to block out the sunlight and obscure his face, should he pass anyone on the road. He already had a good amount of provisions left from his previous trip, so he wouldn't have to stop by Falkreath before setting off this time. It was just as well. He hated everyone there, and the only thing he liked about the place was its massive graveyard and the fact that everything had been named with death in mind.

The trip to Solitude took a little over a week on foot, and that was without following all of the roads. Ralyn had needed to stop to gather more provisions in Rorikstead, since his supplies from the previous contract's journey had begun to dwindle about halfway through.

The farmer had given them to him for free, warily eyeing the Dark Brotherhood robes he wore throughout the whole transaction. People always did that, whenever he went into towns or villages. They avoided him unless directly spoken to, in which case they would all but grovel and cower in fear. Ralyn liked things that way. He hated people.

He set up camp for the final day of the journey just outside of the city, waiting for nightfall. Watching the people as they passed by on the main road wasn't much in the way of entertainment, but he didn't have much else to do. He wasn't tired enough to sleep, and it probably wouldn't have been a good idea to do so there, regardless. The rest of the day dragged on slowly, and Ralyn found himself growing impatient. _Why can't night just come already?_

The sun only seemed to move slower across the sky after that thought, as though it were taunting the irritated dark elf. It did sink beneath the horizon eventually, however, and Ralyn was more than happy to pack up and head for the rock formations on the west side of the gate.

He stopped at the base of the stones, scrutinizing them before starting to climb. It was difficult work, yes, but it would lead him right up to the top of the city walls, on which he could easily make his way directly to the castle dour, where the high elf he was hunting would be staying.

He dropped noiselessly onto the wall after a few minutes of struggling up the rocks, immediately glancing around for guards. There were none. _Is it just me, or are the city guards somehow _worse _than the ones in the imperial camp? _Ralyn shook his head at the thought, continuing along the wall in a crouch, just in case the guards in the streets below spotted him. That wasn't very likely to happen, but it was far better to be safe than sorry.

He rounded the corner, pausing at the door there. If he remembered correctly, there was a short hallway just beyond, with General Tullius's rooms at the end. He'd have to pass by the command center, but that wouldn't be a problem, given that everyone would either be asleep or too absorbed in their planning to notice him. The Thalmor ambassador would be staying in the general's rooms, since he was away, and would be for a few more weeks. _The tricky part will be getting past the Thalmor guards, getting the key, unlocking the door, and getting in without being noticed._

Ralyn slung his pack off of his shoulder, rifling through its contents until he'd found what he was looking for; a potion of extended invisibility. Babette always kept him well-supplied on those, as well as various poisons. They'd come in handy more than a couple of times in the past, as they would undoubtably do so now. He popped the cork out and downed the contents without a moment's hesitation, resealing the small glass bottle and placing it back in his bag afterwards. He waited a moment, holding his grayish-blue hand in front of his face and watching it slowly fade until it vanished completely. Only then did he chance inching open the door.

A single Thalmor guard stood watch beside the door at the end of the hall, decked out in the usual golden elvish armor with a sword hanging at her side. _Just one? _Ralyn thought, frowning. _This is beyond the point of being funny now. Security in Skyrim is so bad, even _I'm _almost concerned. _It made his job easier, though, so he really couldn't complain too much.

The dark elf crossed the hallway quickly, his booted feet making no sound as he glided across the stone floor. The guard didn't move a muscle, even as he reached up and plucked the key ring from her belt. Thievery certainly wasn't his strongest suit, but he was a decent pickpocket when he really needed to be.

Selecting the key that seemed the closest in shape to the keyhole, he slid it into place, turning it slowly until it unlocked with a quiet 'click'. He winced, glancing up at the high elf not four inches away from him. She didn't seem to have noticed. He was actually almost mad. She was an elf, for crying out loud! If she were anywhere near decent at her job, she would've heard a thing like that. Or maybe he was just better than he thought.

Ralyn pushed the door open very, very slowly, afraid that too quick a movement would finally cause the guard to notice him. The well-oiled hinges made no sound as he slid through the crack he'd made in the door, closing it softly behind him. He paused a moment, listening for any sign of movement from the guard outside, but he was met with silence. Good.

Ralyn turned away from the door, examining the room he'd found himself in. It was smaller than he'd expected, without much furnishing beyond the bed, a bookshelf, and a long chest at the foot of the bed. His target, Sarulas, was tucked neatly under the moss green covers, his soft breathing the only sound. Soon, there wouldn't even be that.

The invisibility potion started to wear off as the assassin made his way to the bedside, placing his bag on the small table there and flipping open the flap. He pulled out two items; a large, opaque potion bottle and a coil of sturdy rope.

He unscrewed the bottle first, pouring a bit of its contents into Sarulas's mouth. The liquid trickled down his throat a little slowly, with its near-syrupy consistency, but he still swallowed it without trouble. Sarulas's amber eyes shot open immediately, focusing on Ralyn just before his muscles froze up, and he could no longer move. Ralyn smiled darkly, closing the bottle once again as he leaned back, surveying the unnaturally still body of the high elf in front of him. Potent paralysis poison. Yet another thing he'd have to remember to thank Babette for later.

Uncoiling the rope next, he set to work crafting a suitable noose, tying it to the rafters above and testing his weight against it to make sure that it would hold up. He left the room only a few minutes later, invisible, leaving yet another corpse dangling from the ceiling in his wake.

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~'-_*-...

**Cana**

Cana sat atop a boulder on the side of the road, contemplating what to draw. She was technically on a job, exterminating a pair of trolls that had settled themselves just west of Solitude, but it was almost dark, and she'd already made a lot of progress that day. Traveling to the city, that is. Killing trolls would be the easy part.

She settled her sketch pad onto her lap, tapping her piece of charcoal thoughtfully on her trousers. They were black, so it didn't really matter if the messy drawing utensil smudged on her armor. She just couldn't think of anything interesting to put on the blank, not-quite white piece of paper before her. She needed some sort of inspiration.

The young woman looked up, peering through the line of sparse trees at the slowly sinking sun. The sky was ablaze, the few wispy clouds that drifted here and there steeped in bright reds, oranges, and yellows. It would've been a nice subject for an artwork, if she'd had paint. But since she didn't, she'd have to look elsewhere. She-

There was somebody coming up the road from the east.

Normally, this wouldn't have been particularly big news. Travelers went back and forth on these roads all the time, so the fact that someone was doing that in and of itself wasn't what bothered her. It wasn't even that the figure was alone.

It was the robes. She'd recognize those colors anywhere, particularly coupled with the emblem on the chest. A single black hand print, almost painfully noticeable against the blood red fabric. The person walking up the road towards her was from the Dark Brotherhood.

_What should I do...? _She thought, carefully closing her book and placing it and the charcoal onto the dirt beside the rock she was perched on. She never once looked away from the approaching figure, reaching back to wrap her hand around the hilt of her sword as they drew closer. The hood was drawn up, obscuring the assassin's features, but Cana was almost certain that the traveler was male. Also, judging from what little she could see of his blue-gray skin and the loose strands of inky black hair, he was a dark elf.

He'd passed her before she finally decided to speak up. "Some nerve you've got there, parading about the main road during the day, dressed like that." _Stupid, _she thought, mentally slapping herself. _I just don't know when to keep my big mouth shut, do I? _

The assassin paused, but did not turn, his black gloved hand sliding to the dagger sheath at his side. He left it resting on the hilt, a casual, yet cautious gesture. "I prefer to think of it more as confidence in my own skills," he said slowly, in a voice almost too low and quiet for Cana to hear.

She snorted, unable to help herself despite the tiny sliver of fear she felt in the back of her mind. "Arrogant, aren't we?"

The assassin chuckled, finally turning to face her. Not that it did any good, since she still couldn't really make out his features. He kept his hand on the knife. "Maybe. But I've never really given myself any reason to doubt." Cana rolled her eyes, keeping a firm grip on the hilt of her claymore. "What? Don't believe me? You can test me if you like. Though if you do, you won't come out alive."

"You're the one who wouldn't come out alive," the young woman shot back, her grip tightening until her knuckles turned white. This man was really beginning to annoy her. She hated overconfident people. Yet...

Her thoughts were interrupted when the dark elf in front of her suddenly burst out laughing, his hand dropping away from the knife so that he could fold his arms across his chest. His hood slipped back a little as he laughed, and Cana could see his face more clearly. He had the narrow, somewhat angular face that most elves had in common, with shoulder-length black hair and red irises rimmed with black. He was also younger than she'd originally thought, as he looked to be only a couple of years older than her. Strange. But why was he laughing...?

She just kept staring at him, bewildered, as his laughter finally died down and he regained his passive expression. "You know... I actually kind of like you," he said, pulling his hood back up so that it once again shrouded his features. "What's your name, Companion?"

Cana stuttered a moment, but then regained her composure. "How did you... oh, never mind." She should've been flattered, that he thought she looked like enough of a warrior to be a part of the Companions. Most people missed that bit. She paused, considering. "I'll only tell you my name if you tell me yours, assassin. Why do you want to know, anyway?"

He shrugged. "I want to know what to call you by, in case we bump into each other again. My name's Ralyn."

The nord woman squinted at him for a moment, unsure as to what ulterior motives the assassin could have. Finally, she sighed. _I may as well tell him, since I'm sure he could find out on his own anyway, if he wanted. _"It's Cana." _This is by far the strangest encounter I've ever had, _she thought. That wasn't entirely true, of course, but it certainly felt like it at the moment.

Ralyn smiled slightly, but she couldn't tell whether or not it was genuine. The hood alone made it difficult to tell what he was feeling. "Cana," he repeated, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. "Alright, then. I've got somewhere to be, so I'll be leaving now. Maybe I'll see you again sometime, Cana." And with that, he was gone.

_What just happened? _Cana thought, unmoving as she stared blankly at the spot the assassin had been standing just moments before. She'd been trying to figure out something to draw, and ended up having a brief and, surprisingly, not entirely unpleasant conversation with a member of the Dark Brotherhood. Wait...

She knew what to draw.

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~'-_*-...

**Dar'kasa**

"How come our luck has been so bad lately?" the khajiit thief asked, leaning across the table to fix Brynjolf with what she hoped was an unnerving stare from her slitted yellow eyes. "It's gotten to the point where only one out of ten jobs are successful."

"Not for you," Brynjolf replied, taking a sip from his mug of... whatever alcoholic beverage he was drinking this time. "You've been doing fine while the rest of us have been failing, for some reason."

Dar'kasa raised a single furry eyebrow at the nord as he finished the last of his drink, passing the tankard to Vekel. "I detect a hint of jealousy," the khajiit purred in amusement, taking a large bite out of her fish. Yet another reason she chose to live in Riften.

"Aye, that you do," Brynjolf admitted, nodding ever so slightly. "No use denying it. But I'm pretty sure almost _everyone _in the Guild is at least somewhat jealous of your apparent luck."

If cats could smirk, Dar'kasa did, feeling more than a little satisfied with herself. "That's not luck, it's pure talent. Obviously."

Brynjolf laughed. "Don't go getting too full of yourself now, lass."

"Too late."

It was at that moment that Rune chose to enter, glancing around a moment before making his way over to their table. He smiled, nodding to each of them in greeting. "Hello, Dar'kasa. Brynjolf."

"Rune," Brynjolf replied, also nodding. He seemed mildly surprised. "What are you doing here? You rarely come to the Flagon."

"Actually, I was trying to find our friend here," Rune said, tapping the table in front of Dar'kasa. She scowled back up at him, slowly chewing a mouthful of fish. "Mercer told me to come and get you. I think he has a job."

The khajiit sighed most exaggeratedly, intentionally pushing her chair back so that it made a loud screeching noise on the grimy stone floor. Everyone in the Ragged Flagon turned to look at her, stormy expressions on their faces. Needless to say, she didn't have too many friends, even in the Guild. Brynjolf rolled his eyes as she stood up, then rose himself.

"I'm curious about this job," he said, following the other two out of the Flagon, through a secret door, and into the Cistern. "Mercer doesn't usually hand out assignments. That's mine, Vex, and Delvin's job. This must be something big."

"Big," Dar'kasa repeated, taking a breath. "Right." _Curse me and my 'good' luck. _Rune hung back as she and Brynjolf continued out into the center of the room, where Mercer Frey was waiting.

Dar'kasa had never really been fond of Mercer. At all. In fact, she downright despised him. He was ugly, bossy, loud, had a grating voice, and was always completely certain that he was right, even when he was proven wrong. Despite all of the years she'd spent with the Thieves Guild, she still didn't understand he'd gotten to be the leader. He may have somehow earned the respect of the rest of the organization, but he certainly hadn't earned hers. And he never would.

"What do you want, Mercer?" she asked, stopping a couple of feet away from him and folding her arms across her chest. "I kind of need to get to a bedlam job, so..."

Mercer scowled. Well, slightly more than he usually did, anyway. "Whatever job you were about to do isn't important. The one I'm giving you is, so shut your mouth, cat."

"Make me," Dar'kasa hissed, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.

The breton man growled in frustration, but chose not to press the matter any further. "Goldenglow Estate," he spat, leaning forward slightly. "You've heard about what we've been trying to do there, right?"

"Yeah..." Dar'kasa said slowly, leaning back a bit as Mercer leaned forward. She didn't want to be any closer to him than she had to be. "Vex tried to get in to steal some crap for one of our clients, I think burn some stuff too, but there were a bunch of mercenaries and she couldn't complete the job. What about it?"

"You're going to go there. First thing tomorrow. Do what Vex couldn't."

The khajiit gaped for a moment, shocked. "You want me to _what?_"

"You heard me," Mercer replied, looking rather smug. "You've been having the best luck in the entire Guild since you joined, so it should be easy for you. Matter of fact, if you can't do it, don't bother coming back."

"Mercer, you can't be serious," Brynjolf choked before Dar'kasa could, speaking up for the first time since the conversation had started.

"Oh, I am."

"Vex couldn't do it, and you didn't kick her out!" Dar'kasa protested, drawing the attention of a few of the other Guild members milling about the Cistern.

"I don't have a problem with Vex," the insufferable breton man replied cooly, reverting to his normal scowl. "But I do have a problem with you. So unless you truly are an exceptional thief, I don't see much point in keeping you around."

There was a long moment of silence, in which only the occasional drip of water on stone could be heard. The rest of the Guild had temporarily ceased in their activities to watch the commotion in the middle of the room. Nosy thieves.

"Bah," Mercer finally huffed, throwing his hands up and turning away. "I've got work to do."

Dar'kasa watched as he stomped off to his desk, hating him in that moment more than everything else she'd ever hated put together. How could he _do _that to her? Nine years of working for the Guild, and he was ready to kick her out for messing up _once _on a job so insanely difficult, even Vex had to admit that she couldn't do it. _The jerk has just been _waiting _for an opportunity like this, _she realized, clenching her fists and spinning on her heel, storming back to the Ragged Flagon. _One tiny slip-up on my part would be an excuse, if a poor one, to get rid of me. _

Brynjolf followed silently, his expression deadly serious as he sat down at the table across from her. The uncharacteristically angry air about the pair of them drew stares, but nobody said anything. _Well, I won't let him get rid of me. There's no way I'm failing this job._

"Brynjolf," she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "I need your help with this. Tell me exactly what I'm supposed to do."

"Well..." he began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "there are two things that you need to do. The first is to set a few of the hives on fire. Three, to be specific. No more, no less. Then you need to get into the house and steal a couple of Aringoth's files, which he keeps in his safe. All of this without getting caught by the mercenaries."

Dar'kasa sat silently for a moment, staring at nothing as she thought about what she was expected to do. She'd have to talk to Vex before she went, in case there was anything else that she needed to know about. But she could do this. She _would _do this. She looked back up at Brynjolf, who'd been staring at her expectantly, and smiled. "Why wait until tomorrow? I think I'll get started now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ralyn**

Ralyn heaved a frustrated sigh, seated on top of one of the tombstones in Falkreath's graveyard with his arms and legs crossed. He'd never taken a break before, and he wasn't sure how to go about it. The concept was foreign to him.

_Why did I let Babette talk me into doing this? _he thought, scowling viciously at the colorful night sky high above. It was clear and cloudless, and everything was relatively well-lit by the light of the stars, the moons, and the constantly moving, blue-green aurora. The dark elf wasn't too fond of nights like these, generally speaking. The more light there was, the higher the chance there was of being spotted whenever he was working on a contract. However, the brilliance of the sky annoyed him even more than usual on this night, since looking at it made him think about contracts, which in turn reminded him of the fact that he wasn't doing one. He really had no idea what to do. He'd never thought that he'd need to before, since he'd been working nonstop for a good number of years.

After a few more minutes that felt like hours of staring at the sky, Ralyn hopped down from his perch on the gravestone, landing soundlessly on the soft dirt mound below. He had to do _something_, or he'd go crazy by the time his break was up. But he couldn't stay so close to the Sanctuary. He had to go somewhere else, perhaps even travel around a bit before figuring out something to do. He started off out of the town, heading back in the direction of the Sanctuary. He was too exhausted from his previous journey to do anything that night, but he could always leave the first thing in the morning. Assuming that it would still be morning when he woke up.

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~'-_*-...

**Cana**

"Cana," a woman's voice called from the doorway, sounding somewhat hesitant. "Cana, you awake?"

The warrior in question didn't bother looking up, continuing to lay lazily on her bed in Jorrvaskr as she finished up adding the final touches to her drawing. She'd plopped herself there the moment she'd returned from her last job, and hadn't moved since. She had to finish that picture, before the image faded from her mind. "Yeah, I'm awake," she replied absentmindedly, frowning as she attempted to cover up a dark smudge on the paper with the trunk of a tree. "What do you need, Ria?"

"Vilkas wants to see you," the imperial woman replied, walking into the room and taking a seat on the bed across from Cana's. "He seemed a bit… perplexed… when he told me to get you, like he's got something on his mind. I'd go talk to him as soon as you can, if I were you."

Cana looked up, raising an eyebrow. Vilkas was never confused, perplexed, or befuddled by anything. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it was probably something important. She looked back down at her drawing. "I will, but I have to finish this first."

"What is that, anyway?" Ria asked, leaning forward slightly to peer at the paper.

Cana flushed, hastily finishing the last bit of shading. "It's nothing." She closed the brown leather book with a snap, shoving it and the charcoal into her bag before getting up. Ria looked at her suspiciously, but didn't say anything regarding the drawing. "Where is he? The dining hall?"

Ria shook her head. "No, he's with Farkas out back."

"Thanks."

Cana took off down the short hall without another word, hopping up the old, rickety wooden staircase at the end with ease. She found Vilkas seated in one of the chairs outside, talking with his brother in a hushed tone. Well, that was rather suspicious.

"Hey, Vilkas," the blonde woman greeted, plopping herself down on the small round table between him and Farkas. "Ria said you have something to talk about."

Farkas's face cracked into a broad smile when he saw her, but Vilkas maintained his stony mask. Cana frowned, worried. Something must have really been wrong, for her shield-brother to act this way. He was usually pretty cheerful, at least when she was around.

"Vilkas...? What's wrong?"

Farkas chose that moment to excuse himself, heaving himself out of his chair and pulling open the door to Jorrvaskr. He patted Cana on the back, a little more roughly than was probably intended, still grinning stupidly as he left. _What in the world is going on?_

Vilkas sighed, slumping forward in his chair slightly. "Cana..." he began, trailing off a bit before continuing, "I have a job for you."

"A job? That's it? Seriously?" the blonde huffed, crossing her arms indignantly. She let out a breath, relieved. "You had me worried for a minute, there. I thought something had happened."

"Let me get to it," the nord man continued, chuckling slightly. So he wasn't as disturbed as she'd first thought. That was good. "The Jarl has requested your presence up in Dragonsreach. I'm under the impression that he's got some sort of assignment for you, though I'm not sure what." His mask suddenly broke the rest of the way, replaced by an enormous grin. He'd obviously been having a bit of difficulty holding it back as long as he had. _What a dork... _"Congratulations, shield-sister! You're getting a job from the Jarl himself!"

Cana frowned, which made Vilkas's smile waver a bit. Obviously not the reaction he'd expected. "The Jarl? Asked for me, specifically? Why would he do that?"

Vilkas's expression almost immediately transformed from ecstatic to neutral, which was his way of pouting. It took everything Cana had not to laugh. "Like I said, I'm not sure. You'll have to find that out for yourself."

"Okay..." She thought a moment, watching sightlessly as Athis trained in the courtyard, oblivious to the nords' conversation. She had to squint to see in the brightness of the day, despite the fact that the table she sat on was positioned under an overhang. This was why she preferred cloudy skies. "Well, if the Jarl of Whiterun wants to speak to me, I probably shouldn't keep him waiting."

Vilkas nodded, smiling slightly again, as Cana stood, turned, and walked off. Climbing the steps up to Dragonsreach was easy, despite the narrowness, steepness, and sharp turns. The guards she passed by said nothing, continuing on their ways as though she weren't even there. She opened the great, heavy wooden door quietly, in an effort not to disturb anything that might be happening inside. For all she knew, the Jarl could've been in the middle of an important audience.

He wasn't.

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater lounged in his throne on the other side of the fire pit that served as the room's center, resting his blond bearded chin on his fist in a somewhat brooding manner. His steward stood silently off to his left, mirrored on the other side by a severe dark elf woman in leather armor that Cana could only assume to be his housecarl. Balgruuf looked up as the young Companion entered, but did not change his posture.

"My Jarl," the blonde woman greeted, stopping a few feet away from the man and dropping into a kneeling position, head bowed. "I am Cana Stormblade of the Companions. I was told that you have need of me?"

"You were told correctly," Balgruuf confirmed, nodding and waving a hand to indicate that she could rise. She did, brushing the dust off of her knees and standing with her arms folded. She fixed the Jarl with a steady gaze, waiting for him to continue. "Thank you for responding to my summons so promptly. Come. Let us speak with my court wizard, Farengar. He's been looking into matters related to dragons and... rumors... of dragons."

Cana frowned, but did as he said, trailing behind him as he got up and led the way into a much smaller room to the right of the throne. _Right to the point, isn't he? _she thought, absentmindedly glancing around at the servants cleaning the halls as she followed behind the Jarl. _Dragons? Court wizard? He can't want me to assist with _research, _could he? _She grimaced, and not only due to the thought of participating in scholarly activities. As a rule, she hated most wizards.

"Farengar!" Balgruuf called as they entered the wizard's study. He stopped abruptly, and Cana barely halted in time to keep herself from running into him. _That would've been embarrassing... _"I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill her in with all the details." And he left.

Cana was left alone in the room that smelled of herbs and other, less identifiable substances, awkwardly waiting for the blue-robed wizard behind the desk to address her. His face was obscured by his hood, so that she couldn't see his features, and he stood in silence for a long moment, probably examining her. Then he spoke.

"Well," Farengar said, "you look... capable... I suppose."

Cana scowled. She knew what he was really thinking. How could such a young, soft-looking girl possibly be an able enough warrior to be a part of the Companions? Nobody ever thought that she looked like much. It was a mistake that sometimes proved to be fatal. _The assassin, at least, could tell…_

"So the Jarl thinks you could be of use to me?" Farengar continued, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "He must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me." He paused. "Well, when I say 'fetch', I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

"Alright, I can do that. But what does this tablet of yours have to do with the dragons, exactly?" the nord woman asked, leaning back against the wooden pillar behind her and crossing her arms. Based on her first impression of him, she actually almost liked this man. Almost. He was funny, but he was still a mage.

Farengar chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker. Perhaps even a scholar?" _You've got no idea. _"You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors, impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. So I began to search for information about dragons. Where had they gone all those years ago, and where are they coming from now?"

"Okay..." Farengar's words made sense, but he wasn't answering her question. While Balgruuf had been very quick to get to the point, his wizard was just the opposite. At least the man seemed to thoroughly enjoy his work. That counted for something.

"I, uh… learned of a certain stone tablet, a 'dragonstone', said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. It's said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow. So what I need for you to do is to go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet, no doubt interred in the main chamber, and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."

"Yes, sir." Cana nodded, giving the wizard a little salute. She turned to leave, but paused, glancing back at the man over her shoulder. "You didn't have any more to tell me, did you?"

Farengar smiled. "No, that's all. And please be quick about it, Companion. The Jarl is not a patient man."

The blonde woman grinned. "Trust me, sir. I'll be back before he even realizes I've gone."

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~'-_*-...

**Dar'kasa**

_I swear, I'm going to kill that Mercer one day... _Dar'kasa thought as she crawled out of the lake, her armor dripping wet and her brown tabby fur soaked through from her swim to Goldenglow Estate. The expensive bee farm had been built on a small, solitary island not far from Riften, connected to the mainland by a single stone bridge. While the khajiit could have taken that to avoid the unpleasant feeling of wet fur, arriving by the main road most likely would have ended with her being spotted, thus foiling her entire plan. So she'd chosen the lesser of the two evils, although it certainly didn't feel like it.

She crept up onto the shore, staying low just in case the mercenaries patrolling the property above happened to look in her direction. The strip of beach she crouched on was very, very small, barely large enough to accommodate the big, rounded, boarded-up entrance to the Goldenglow Estate sewers. _I already had to swim in a filthy lake, _Dar'kasa thought, grimacing as she silently removed the boards from the door. _And now I have to go in a grimy sewer. Could this day possibly get any better? _

Once all of the planks had been removed, she carefully pulled the crudely-made door open. The khajiit was immediately hit with a foul stench, like a hundred barrels of rotting fish baking in the hot sun. Not even the Ratway smelled this awful. What did Aringoth _do _to make his sewers smell so rancid? It had to be the large numbers of mercenaries he accommodated.

Dar'kasa steeled herself against the putrid odor, cautiously beginning her descent down the ladder. She took a tiny breath through her teeth, but even that much exposure to the air down there was enough to cause her to gag. She halted, unable to make herself put her foot down on the next rung. She couldn't do this.

The thief quietly scrambled back up the ladder, bursting out into the fresh night air and sucking in huge lungfuls. She needed some sort of mask.

Dar'kasa slid off her pack, rifling through it for a few moments until she found the black cloth tunic she usually kept at the bottom. She pulled it out, tore a long strip off of the bottom, and shoved it back into the bag. Oh, well. She could always steal another.

She tied the strip firmly around her nose and mouth, strapped her pack back on, and began her descent into the sewers once again. The scent was still disgusting, but at least it was bearable. Hopefully the sewers weren't very big, so she could get out of them as quickly as possible. Regardless, she'd smell terrible for weeks.

The khajiit woman's feet touched the ground with a slight squelching sound, and she shuddered, refusing to look down. She'd also have to give her boots a thorough washing. The walls and floors in the tunnels were covered in slime and muck, and the ceilings were dripping with some sort of dirty liquid. Yes, the sooner she got out of there, the better.

She heard a scuffle up ahead, the sound bouncing off of the walls a moment before fading away. Dar'kasa pulled out her makeshift metal claws, keeping an ear out for any more noises as she continued to creep forward. There were probably quite a few skeevers down there. She hated skeevers. _Stupid overgrown rats. _She turned left at a curve in the tunnels, and sure enough, an enormous rodent sat at the end of the stretch, nibbling at something on the ground. Disgusting.

Dar'kasa sped up a bit, the sudden acceleration doing nothing to affect her stealth. If she wanted to, she could even run full speed without making a sound. If there was one thing she definitely knew how to do, it was how to remain undetected. She had a good many other skills, of course. All related in some way to thieving.

She dispatched the skeever before it even realized she was there, plunging her steel claws into the back of the thing's neck. She yanked away the blades, now stained with filthy rodent blood, grimacing. She'd probably have to kill more rats before the night was over.

She crept through a couple more tunnels, stepped over a tripwire that was obviously meant to set the oil-covered floor beneath her on fire, and killed a few more skeevers before she finally reached the other end of the sewers. A ladder led up into the ceiling to her left, and to her right was a dead end. Dar'kasa hooked her weapons back into place on her belt and started to climb, carefully lifting the door at the top as she peered around the area for mercenaries. There were none. She climbed out of the sewers slowly nonetheless, just in case there were any nearby that she hadn't spotted. This was unlikely, of course, but it was best to be cautious.

She slid the door back into place, pulled off her makeshift mask, and snuck to the back of the outside of the estate, ducking her head around the corner before rounding it, careful to stick to the shadows. The front of the building was to her left now, as were a few of the mercenaries, by the sound of it. Straight ahead of her was a short stretch of road, which crossed over a bridge and led to the hives. She should burn those first, as a distraction, then break into the house itself.

The khajiit thief took a breath before darting out into the open, keeping low and sticking to the few shadows that were scattered about here and there. She padded quickly across the bridge and fell on her stomach in the tall grass, looking back towards the men outside the estate to make sure that she hadn't been spotted. The mercenaries seemed none the wiser as they continued chopping firewood and talking, whether to themselves or to each other, Dar'kasa didn't know. She got back up into a crouch, creeping along through the grass until she reached the first beehive. She went around the back so that she was hidden from the view of the rest of the estate and shrugged off her pack, undoing the clasp and flipping it open. Sitting on top of the rest of her things was a torch, which she took out and placed in the dirt beside her, closing the bag again and slipping it back on.

She picked up the torch and held it for a moment, thinking, before quickly scraping it along the tall wooden fence to ignite it. She darted from hive to hive, lingering just long enough to make sure they'd caught before moving on to the next. She halted at the third, simply placing the torch on the top before dashing away, leaving three flaming pillars behind her. She smiled when she heard the shouts come up from the other side of the island, ducking behind a chicken coop as a couple of mercenaries rushed past her towards the beehives. Now all she had to do was clear out the safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ralyn**

_Eight years ago..._

Ralyn had always hated his father. In his mind the man was nothing more than a slug; a cowardly, dirt-crawling drunkard that licked the boots of the powerful and took out his anger on the weak. Ralyn could handle the beatings, himself. He'd long since grown used to them. But his mother... his kind, quiet, gentle mother... he couldn't stand it when he hurt her. She was always looking out for him, and she'd never done anything wrong. As far as he knew, she couldn't even bring herself to harm a fly. His mother didn't deserve to die.

So why... _why _was it her blood that stained the floor, slowly spreading in a bright scarlet pool around her corpse? His father was there, too, lying in a puddle of his own blood only a couple feet away, but Ralyn couldn't care less. It was his fault she'd died, anyway. His fault, and the assassins' fault.

The Morag Tong had been sent to kill his father. They hadn't expected him to use Ralyn's mother as a shield at the last second, one last desperate and horribly selfish attempt to save his own life. It didn't work, of course, and he inevitably took a dagger to his heart, all the life drained out of him in an instant. The assassins left immediately after, vanishing out the open window and into the night as suddenly as they'd come, like smoke. Leaving Ralyn alone with the corpses of his parents.

Death was a funny thing. Sometimes you saw it coming, and sometimes you didn't. It could happen quickly, or agonizingly slowly. It could free you from the oppression of someone you hate forever, but at the same time take away the person you love most. Death was a funny thing, and from that day forward, it followed Ralyn everywhere he went.

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~'-_*-...

**Cana**

The first thing that came to Cana's attention when she walked into the Riverwood Trader was the arguing. The shop owner and an imperial woman in a yellow dress were in the middle of what appeared to be a heated debate, bordering on a shouting match. She stopped, letting the door swing shut behind her as she silently watched the scene.

"Well, one of us has to do something!" the woman was saying, crossing her arms as she heaved a long, exaggerated sigh of frustration.

"I said no!" the man behind the counter shouted, banging his hands loudly on the worn wooden surface. "No adventures, no theatrics... no thief-chasing!"

"What are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!"

The shopkeeper flushed. "We are done talking about this." He paused, noticing Cana standing by the door for the first time. He turned all the redder, standing up straight and adjusting his collar a bit, embarrassed. "Oh... a customer. Sorry you had to hear that…"

Cana cocked her head to the side, staring at him thoughtfully. Then she sighed, shaking her head as she walked further into the room. "I was just coming in here to ask for directions," she said, and the two other people in the shop looked at her curiously, "but it would seem that something's up. If you tell me what it is, I may be able to help. I'm from the Companions."

There was a long pause, the length of time it took for the woman and the shopkeeper to realize that she wasn't joking. The man leaned forward, squinting, and his eyes widened when he finally noticed the claymore strapped to her back. He stuttered. "Oh, um, well... we... we had a bit of a- ahem- a break-in." He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, then hastily continued. "But we still have plenty to sell! The robbers were only after one thing."

Another pause. "And what is that?" Cana asked, gesturing for the imperial man to go on.

"It was an ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw. Now if you're going after those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town. I've got some gold coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back."

The young nord woman laughed. "My, isn't this convenient? That's where I'm already headed, actually, so getting your trinket back shouldn't be too difficult."

"What business could you possibly have in Bleak Falls Barrow?" the woman asked, leaning back against one of the wooden posts near the fireplace and crossing her arms. She shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know. So this is your plan, Lucan?" She turned to regard the shopkeeper, sounding entirely unimpressed. Cana tried not to be offended.

"Yes. Now you don't have to go, do you?"

The imperial woman smiled mischievously. "Well, I think your new helper here needs a guide." More arguing.

As it turned out, the imperial woman, Camilla, couldn't actually take Cana any farther than the bridge that led back out of Riverwood. She pointed her in the correct direction and then left, back on her way to the general store where Lucan was no doubt anxiously awaiting her return. Cana stared up at the mountain she was apparently supposed to climb. It wasn't too terribly tall, as far as mountains went, and she'd been told that the path up was a relatively easy one to take. She wasn't quite sure how Camilla knew that, since she claimed that no one ever went up there.

The climb was indeed an easy one, despite the biting wind, all of the snow, and the occasional wolf attack. There was a tower up ahead, and if Cana squinted she could see a couple of human outlines through the blinding glare of the snow. Bandits. There were probably more inside, as well.

She killed all three of them, climbed the tower, and examined the contents of the chest at the top. No golden claw. She rifled through their clothes and bags a bit too, something she didn't do very often out of respect for the dead, but had no luck there, either. She sighed. _I guess this was the wrong group of bandits..._

The barrow wasn't too much farther; she could see more of its strange stone arches as she rounded a bend. It was huge and majestic, and appeared to be quite abandoned, although Cana suspected that this was not the case. It was very likely home to bandits, skeevers, and probably frostbite spiders. And based on her past experiences with crypts, there would undoubtedly be draugr as well. Brilliant.

Cana began climbing the steps up to Bleak Falls Barrow, trying not to make too much noise, just in case there were more bandits lurking nearby. The arrow that whizzed past just a couple of inches in front of her nose confirmed her suspicions, and she immediately drew her claymore from its sheath, preparing for another attack.

She blocked another arrow with the flat of the blade before swinging it in a wide arc, knocking the mace out of the hand of a bandit who'd chosen that moment to charge her. She brought the blade back around, slicing clean through his neck and severing his head from his body, sparks of lightning singeing the skin for a half a second before dispersing.

The young Companion blocked the next arrow in the same manner she had the last, then dashed for cover behind a pillar. Using the brief amount of time she had before the archer showed up again to drop the sword and pull out her bow, she notched an arrow and jumped out from behind the stone, loosing it before her opponent had the chance to do the same. It buried itself in the woman's shoulder. The wound wasn't fatal, but Cana's next shot to the skull was. She took out the third bandit, who'd done nothing but stand around and watch the show the entire time, and put away her bow. None of them were in possession of a golden claw, either.

Cana picked up her sword and continued on to the set of iron doors that marked the entrance to the tomb, not bothering to sheathe it. She pushed open the doors and stepped into a large, crumbling stone room. The corpses of bandits and skeevers alike lay sprawled across the floor, and the flickering light of a fire wavered on the opposite wall. There were two more bandits inside, both of which she dispatched without trouble. There was a chest by the fire. She tried lifting the lid, but it was locked. _Great. I have no lockpicking skills so to speak of, and with my luck, Lucan's claw is in this chest. _

She decided to take a stab at it, digging a couple of lockpicks out of one of the bandits' pouches. She fiddled with the lock for a few moments, but it didn't open. She kept at it until all of the picks had snapped, but with no luck. She sighed, standing and brushing off her pants as she stared hatefully down at the chest. Hopefully she'd find another bandit further in the barrow, and she could force them to open it for her. And if that didn't work... it was a pain, but Cana supposed she could lug it up to the top of the tower from earlier and toss it off. The fall would probably damage it enough for her to pry it open.

Having come up with a suitable, if not ideal plan, she continued on further into the crypt, carefully picking her way down the crumbling stairs and meandering through the decrepit, cobweb-filled halls. She was just about to go down another set of stairs when she saw more flickering firelight ahead.

Cana paused, then resumed her descent, this time a little quieter. The stairs opened up into another room, although this one was smaller than the last, and the layout was different. A large lever sat in the center, and a single, lone bandit was reaching for it, holding a torch in his other hand. That would be the source of the light, then. The bandit pulled the lever, and was promptly stuck with a thousand poisoned needles, like a human pincushion. _So much for getting him to open the chest for me..._

She waited to step into the room until after the barrage of needles died down completely, crouching down to examine the man's corpse. No golden claw there, either. Of course. She looked up at the lever, the obvious trigger of the poisoned needle trap, then around the room. There were no more levers or handles anywhere that she could see that might actually open the closed gate she had to get through, but there were pictures. Snake, snake, fish. That had to be important.

She looked around some more, spotting a set of three pillars on her left. They bore images similar to the ones at the front of the room, and when she pushed against them, they rotated. Cana smiled and set the pillars to match the pictures on the wall. Then she walked over to the lever, held her breath, and pulled. The sound of old gears working filled the room, and the iron gate lifted. So she wasn't dead. That was good.

The young woman continued on through the crypt, dispatching a few skeevers as she went. The amount of cobwebs that lined the walls and stretched across the dark hall only continued to steadily increase, until she was certain that she'd be encountering frostbite spiders soon. She passed a couple of chests and golden urns, but did not touch them. Aside from what she'd come to fetch, stealing from the resting places of the dead didn't feel right to her. Then she heard the voice. Someone was yelling for help.

It was probably a bandit, so she didn't particularly care what happened to him, but all of his yelling and screaming put her guard up, and she drew her sword. It glowed brightly in the dim light of the barrow, illuminating her surroundings. There was a doorway just ahead, completely coated in a thick white wall of sticky web. Cana slashed through it, stepping into a room whose walls she could barely see beneath all of the webbing. Enormous spider egg sacs were scattered about the place, clinging to the walls and crowding about the edges of the room. A man, a dark elf by the looks of it, was thoroughly encased in the goopy, sticky strands at the other end of the room, thrashing around in a desperate attempt to escape. He appeared to be blocking the doorway.

A chittering sound alerted Cana to the presence of the ridiculously gigantic spider hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, easily the largest frostbite she'd ever seen. _This'll be fun, _she thought, grinning as she shifted into a fighting stance. The monster lowered itself to the ground on a thick strand of web, spitting a glob of poison at her the moment its great spindly legs touched the floor. Cana dodged and leapt at the creature, landing on its back in a crouch. She plunged her sword all the way through its head, striking the stone below. A shockwave of blue lightning sizzled across its body for a moment, making the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end before it crashed to the ground, dead. She frowned. _Gigantic or no, spiders are too easy. _

"You did it! You killed it," called a gravelly voice from the other side of the room. She looked up; it was the dark elf bandit stuck in the doorway. "Now cut me loose before anything else shows up!"

Cana scowled, pulling her sword from the carcass of the spider with a wet squelching sound. She wiped the blade on the thing's fuzzy hide, cleaning off most of the blood. "Why should I help you?" she asked, stepping up to the bandit until she was a mere foot away from him. "Ah, I know. Tell you what? I'll make you a deal. You tell me where the golden claw is, and I'll cut you down."

The dunmer nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, the claw! I know all about the claw! I know about-"

"I don't want a history lesson on the thing," the nord woman interrupted. "I just want to know where I can find it."

"I have it! Right here, in my pouch! I'll give it to you if you get me out of here!"

Cana raised an eyebrow, studying the elf's face. He didn't appear to be lying. "Well, that's convenient." Then she plunged her sword into the man's chest, cutting down the corpse and rifling through his bag until she found what she was looking for. She put the claw into her own bag, looking down at the expression of shock that was now eternally frozen on the bandit's face. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I cut you down, like I said I would."

The rest of Bleak Falls Barrow was long, annoying, and positively brimming with draugr. There were also a couple of swinging axe traps, as well as a giant barbed gate that would've impaled her had she stepped on the pressure plate it was connected to. She took all of it in stride, finally coming upon a short, wide hall filled with intricate wall carvings. A door stood set into the wall at the end, one the likes of which Cana had never seen before.

In the center of the door was a circular golden plate, surrounded by three rings, each depicting a different animal. In the golden plate itself were three indents clustered together in a curved line at the top, connected by a carving that looked suspiciously similar to the claw that Cana carried.

She pulled it out, examining it. She hadn't noticed before, when she'd taken the trinket from the bandit, but there were three pictures exactly like the ones on the door, lined up in a column on the bottom. It was another puzzle. She reached up, rotating each of the rings clockwise until the order of the pictures on the door matched the order on the claw. Then she placed the ornament in the center of the golden disk, sliding the talons into place in the indents. She turned that clockwise as well, and the door gave a shudder. She put the claw back in her back, backing up a few steps as all of the rings spun to show matching images of birds, and the door slowly ground open.

The area beyond was less of a chamber and more of a cave. A group of bats fluttered towards her and out the door she'd just come from in a flurry of leathery wings, and she ducked to avoid being smacked in the face by one of the low-flying animals. The cave was big, with high, uneven ceilings and a stream running across the middle of the room.

Cana crossed the bridge over the stream and climbed the short stone steps to the wide platform that was the focal point of the cavern, warily eyeing the ebony casket in the center. Whoever was buried here had to be important and powerful, which would likely translate to a particularly tough draugr should their corpse awaken.

After a few moments of staring intently at the coffin, she allowed her attention to wander to the huge, curved stone wall to her right. It was engraved with some sort of ancient writing, none of which she could read. It was all nonsense.

As she tried and failed to read the words carved into the wall, the sound of something heavy crashing to the ground sounded behind her. She turned, gripping her claymore tightly in both hands, watching as a draugr more heavily armored than the ones she'd fought before it lifted itself from its grave. The corpse carried a greatsword of its own, which emanated a thin cloud of frost that she could see from her position across the platform. It turned to face her. And then it did something that she did not expect.

It shouted at her. "_Fus... Ro Da!_" it cried, and a huge wall of energy slammed into her, knocking her weapon out of her hand and nearly knocking her down herself.

_What? _Cana thought, shocked as she fumbled behind her for her sword. _What kind of magic is this? I've never seen anything like it before... _

Her fingers found the handle of the claymore, and she gripped it tightly, righting herself and charging towards the draugr with a battle cry. It blocked her first swing, but she kicked it hard in the chest, sending it stumbling backwards. She swung her sword in a downward arc, but it just barely blocked her again. She broke off, ducking as it took a stab of its own at her.

It shouted again, but she braced herself, leaning into the wall of magic with her sword held out behind her so that it wouldn't be forced out of her hands. The draugr paused a moment, and Cana took the opportunity to lop off its right arm. From there she cut off its head, and its grey, wrinkled corpse collapsed in a heap at her feet.

She sheathed her sword and bowed her head in respect. The draugr's soul could finally rest. Turning to look inside of the open casket, she saw that a fairly large, flat stone lay inside, what appeared to be a map etched into its surface. That would probably be the dragonstone, then. Cana lifted the tablet out of its case and started up the stairs to what she hoped was the barrow's exit. It was finally time to get out of there.

...-*_-'~.~*...*~.~'-_*-...

**Dar'kasa**

The inside of Goldenglow Estate was like a maze. Dar'kasa hadn't exactly been given a map of the place, and so she was stuck figuring out where Aringoth's cellar was by herself. At least it was neat, clean, and smelled relatively nice, unlike his sewers.

It was also well-lit, which made the khajiit feel somewhat antsy as she crept through the halls. What if a mercenary came strutting around the corner, off to the pantry to snag a sweet roll? They'd see her for sure. Not that the pantry was anywhere near where she was.

Dar'kasa reached another intersection, slowly peeking her head around the corner. A mercenary sat at a small table at the other end of the room, his back to her. Her ears twitched, listening for signs of anyone else in the general vicinity. She heard boots on the wooden floors… someone was pacing back and forth in the next hall. She snuck into the dining room on her left, all the while listening for changes in the mercenaries' movements. Another door was at the other end of that room, and she made her way towards it, waiting until the footsteps began receding before darting across the hall, quickly picking the lock on the gate there and slipping inside. She closed it behind her softly, waiting several heartbeats to make sure she was safe. She was.

The young thief turned, examining the room she'd found herself in. It was tiny and cramped, the only thing of note in it being a staircase that descended down into the bowels of the estate. She went down these, freezing when she saw the group of mercenaries chatting in the far corner of the basement room. _These guys are everywhere, _she thought, flicking her tail in annoyance. _What are they even doing down here, anyway? One would think that guarding the building itself would be the priority, here. _

She shook her head, making a strange face at the chattering guards before continuing through the next doorway. It opened up into another hall, one that branched off in both directions. To the left was another door, and to the right was a bend. Dar'kasa went left, and found a small storage room filled with nothing but antlers and deer hides. She scowled and went back out into the hall, continuing all the way down and turning left again. A single mercenary sat in a small, sturdy wooden chair, drinking a bottle of mead as he hummed softly to himself. He was facing exactly the place Dar'kasa needed to go, so it seemed that she had no choice.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a mace, then crept up behind the man and whacked him across the back of the head with it. He dropped like a sack of rocks.

She chuckled, put away the mace, and started off towards the ladder that most likely led to the room with the safe she was supposed to crack. Then she stopped, looking back at the slumped form of the man she'd just knocked out. She hadn't had a good drink in a long while, and there was no one else around. It would be safe… probably. After a moment's hesitation, Dar'kasa caved in to her thirst, leaving the mercenary with tiny fang marks on his neck as she descended the ladder a few minutes later. He was disgusting, as she'd expected, but it was still worth it.

The room below was indeed the one with the safe inside, and the khajiit thief got to work opening it immediately. She smiled smugly when the door swung open almost as soon as she'd begun fiddling with it, but the smile was soon replaced with a frown when she saw the contents of the box. She'd expected… more. Inside the safe was a single piece of parchment. She couldn't read it; she'd never bothered learning how. But if there was one thing that she was sure of, it was that this little scrap of paper wasn't what Mercer or the client had been expecting. At least she wouldn't be kicked out of the guild… probably.


End file.
